Thug It Out Until You Get It Right
by Gleeful Melancholy
Summary: REVISED 02-12-08. IMHO IT DOESN'T SUCK AS MUCH:: In an exciting future with flashing lights, flying cars, banging clubs, and abandoned power stations, what do you do in your free time? In Razor City, they have a little thing called Fuzion Frenzy.


**A/N:** Being a party game and all, there isn't much of a canon storyline, but since they did give us _something_, I thought it would be fun to run with it and make one up. Stick with me guys, I know it's been over three years, but I just revised this, and I will eventually finish it. )

_Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they are property of Microsoft and Blitz Games. But the interpretations of them are mine. Oh! And I own that one guy that you don't know. Boomer._

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**Prologue**

_The year is 2160  
The city is Razor, U.S.A., formerly New York City, U.S.A.  
This is the funk that your mom will appreciate._

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An alarm went off.

The tune was _Ease of Tomorrow_, and what an appropriate song it was.

It was loud.

But that wasn't what got Dub out of bed. Like fresh bacon to the fasting, he shot up at the sound of a thumping bass line.

_Where is it?_ He thought excitedly, feeling it beat through his chest. He hopped out and shuffled over to the glass doors of his apartment. "Open," he commanded, and they automatically revealed a balcony. In the background, his alarm still rang. "Off," he called over his shoulder. The alarm silenced.

He walked out into the busy, smoggy atmosphere, not sparing a thought for his previous night's attire in the broad daylight, with the crumpled green shirt and wrinkled denim. He was too wiped to bother changing after he got home from the late encore. A small town folk person would have thought the hovercars honking in the morning gridlock would have awakened him, but growing up in the city made him immune to those sounds, and he only noticed the ones out of the ordinary. Such as that "Smashing!" tune. He felt drawn to it. He pulled off his headphones, which he was never without, and hung them around his neck for a moment.

He scratched his head, leaned over the smooth banister, and looked into the streets. A street urchin of Asian descent was promenading up and down the sidewalk. Dub raised an eyebrow.

"Boomer, is that you?" Dub asked, raising his voice against the music and bobbing his head slightly and unconsciously.

"Rise and shine, D! How do you like my new boom box?" his friend yelled back, grinning.

"Real nice, mate. Very old school. Although you're the last person I'd expect to afford one of those," he answered smirking.

Boomer stopped dancing and snapped his head up. "Don't hate man, green is not your color," he replied, taking a shot at both Dub's wardrobe and jealousy. Dub almost fell off of the balcony because Boomer made an intelligent joke. "Besides, not all of us have great deejaying jobs like you."

"Or in your case, the deejaying skills," Dub said yawning. He rubbed his eyes. Wow that beat was catchy. "Say, what is this? I think it would be a great track to mix up tonight."

"Oh, real underground stuff. Fresh out the studio. I bought a couple new joints today. If you want, I can burn some up for you..."

"Fantastic! See you in a few."

Dub raced back into his room and changed really quickly…into a fresh green shirt, of course. He had plenty of those. He jumped in the air tube, which supported people with a current of warm air as they floated between floors. He pushed himself out and ran across the lobby and out the door.

"Took you long enough."

Behind his shades, Dub rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's just get going."

Boomer raised his eyebrows, as they walked along. "I know why you're in such a hurry."

Dub, preoccupied with the music feeding through his headphones said, "What are you talking about?"

His friend shook his head. "Sure you don't know. Don't worry, I invited April over," he said smacking Dub on the back.

"Seriously lad, what are you getting at?" he asked lost.

Boomer ignored him. "Now I know she's a Blade, but when it comes to clubbing, it doesn't matter whether she goes to the rival school or our school! She's a _real_ fan of yours, you know." His friend was grinning while elbowing him.

Dub stared at him, stuffing his hands in his pockets to get out a new CD. "Now why would you say…Bollocks! I forgot to get some disks!" he said, stopping.

"_Bollocks?_"

Dub didn't seem to hear. "Hold up while I get some from upstairs."

Boomer rolled his eyes. "How convenient." He shifted awkwardly with the music device, while he pulled up his pants and pulled his slightly too big beanie up a little. "Just hurry up, dude, this thing isn't light you know."

Dub ran back so quickly that he almost ran over a person carrying an insanely large bouquet of flowers.

"On your left," he said running past, not able to see them through the flowers.

"Hey, watch it, pal!" If she hadn't skated over, he would've hit her. By the time she righted herself and turned around to yell at the offender, he was gone.

Skated over? That's right, this person was none other than Jet, trying out her new job in flower delivery.

"Forget skating, some people can't even run!" she thought annoyed. She bustled past complaining people who hopped out of her way as she rolled to her next destination.

It was pretty hot that day; since she knew she would be working, Jet threw on a pink and white striped tank top and pink Bermuda shorts to match her favorite air skates.

She blew by Boomer, who tipped down his shades and cat-called as she passed. "Ah, get a job," she said rolling her eyes, skating backwards with practiced ease.

Stuffing her hands in her pocket, she grabbed a slip of paper with the address on it. "349 Pirouette Way. Sounds fancy," she said blowing hair out of her face. Turning back around, she checked the nearest street name.

This was her first day on the job, and she thought she was making good time. _Better time than people on foot_, _that's for sure, _she thought. As it usually happened though, she only held down jobs for weeks or even days at a time, as she easily got bored. Living on the waterfront with her wealthy family, she actually didn't _have _to work, but she was what her mother called a "free spirit," and what her sister called a freak. Jet scowled. She just wanted to know what was out there and not be tied down by the same experiences every day.

Jet was feeling lucky today, except for that almost run-in with a careless pedestrian. She saw a bike rack on the sidewalk and leapt up to grind it. She made it all the way across without scraping, before she landed and skated on smirking. "I'm pretty much the best."

Jet slowed down, as she looked from street sign to street sign. She zigzagged around people effortlessly, and surprisingly arrived at the address unharmed.

It was large building, constructed of smooth cream-colored brushed steel. Most of the buildings around here were various metals, which varied in every color from mint to ice. She looked up and read the sign.

"Razor Alpha Dance. Figures." She was about to go inside, when she noticed a sign that said, 'No airblades, skyboards, or hover bikes in the building.'

"Ah man! I hate this place!" Jet dropped the flowers, spit petals out of her mouth, took off her skates, and carried them in one hand. She picked up the flowers and precariously teetered into the building.

"Thank goodness for automatic doors."

She made her way to the elevators, and walked in. Several people grunted when they saw this awkward girl carrying a bush crowding up the elevator. "Thanks guys, #11 please."

An older man shook his head and pressed the button, as the doors closed.

While those doors closed, the doors for the elevator next to them opened. It was full as well; a tall girl wearing an orange leotard, shorts, tights, orange legwarmers, and white heels holding a duffle bag stepped out first.

"Arnold, please, make sure security knows I can't have anymore flowers in my suite, I'm allergic," she commanded, peering at her nails.

"Absolutely miss, right away," a short skinny man answered, typing furiously into an tiny plasma planner, while trying to keep up with the diva's long strides.

She yawned delicately, rolling her eyes. "I've only told you 4 jiggleplex times," she replied boredly.

"It's googolplex, Ms. Naomi," he muttered.

"Are you implying that I'm wrong?" she snapped. _Gods! How hard is it to do his job?_

He hesitated.

Naomi put a hand to his face. "Fired!" _It is way too hard to find good help these days!_

Behind her, Arnold sputtered in her tracks, and a group of paparazzi followed taking pictures and asking questions.

"Please," the raven-haired girl said. She feigned overwhelmedness. "No more pictures. Come to my next show."

She smiled apologetically, and gracefully flounced out the doors. You could tell she enjoyed the attention though, as she paused every now and then to preen in glass windows she passed while waiting for her fans to catch up. Dancing was a cultishly hot trend.

"When is your next show, it hasn't been announced yet!"

"Are you the lead part?"

"I heard it was named after you!"

"Where can we see you?"

She turned around and addressed them again. "Why, where I always perform." Naomi pointed at a majestic red and gold building that stood out from the rest with its dome shape. "At the Coliseum."

There was an awed silence. "Now, who wants to get me a mochachino?"

Digital flashbulbs went off like crazy, and of course there was a blockage in the flow of traffic, big as the sidewalks were.

Just beyond them, a red-haired girl skidded to a stop on her skateboard. She jumped up in an attempt to see what the commotion was, but there were too many people.

"What's the hold up, hey?" Geena said to no one in particular. The blue-street clothes clad girl tapped a guy with a camera on the shoulder.

"What is it, a parade?" she asked jokingly.

He turned around quickly. "No! Even better! She's going to be famous! Intergalactically! Oh fudge! Wee hee!" he answered, foaming at the mouth. He turned back around and held the camera over his head and snapped and convulsed like there was no tomorrow.

Geena stepped back. "Um, ok. I think it's time for chocolate covered candy canes to stop being Razor City's official food, eh?" she said, turning around to her own little group of fans. They were a rowdy bunch of young boys and girl who admired her for her boarding prowess.

"But I like those!" One boy protested.

"Shut up, whatever she says, goes!" the only girl said.

"Hey now, calm down guys, I was only kidding." Geena herself liked those candies, and affectionately called them C4's.

She pretty much just followed the wind on days like these; her friends were working, so she grabbed her board, and rolled around town. Geena turned around now and skated around the block. She took one look back at the commotion, shaking her head.

She was riding a vintage skateboard, with actual wheels and a faded wooden deck. It was an antique her grandfather gave her, and it was the board she had learned on. It had personality and rugged quality, not like those spic and span metal boards they made nowadays. She loved how she could get a feel for the ground beneath her as she rode.

In fact, it got her her reputation. There were a lot of good boarders out there, but they couldn't handle their balance on wheels like she could. Her fan base could only keep up with her on their wheel-free sky boards.

Those kids were adorable. Hyper, but adorable, and Geena wondered if she was like that when _she_ was a grommet. She sighed. Those were the days…now she was just a freelance boarder, with no plan on the horizon. She only wished something exciting would come along. She wasn't picky, she would latch on to just about any opportunity by now…

"Now whoever beats me to Mayor V.L. Sharpe's statue in Central Park gets some C4's, on me." The kids cheered. Geena gave them a little head start, and they rolled their way past the tall buildings.

The kids were moving in a mob, and she chuckled, figuring a little sightseeing on her part wouldn't hurt. She looked up and saw a gap between two sets of skyscrapers on the other side of the street; passing closer, she noticed a squat drive-through restaurant looking completely out of place. "Hm, I should eat there sometime," she mused, propelling herself faster towards the park.

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"Welcome to Cluck Bucket, more cluck for your buck!"

The drive-thru plasma screen reported the slogan in a realistically chipper voice, from within a large chicken.

"Ok, just make with the chicken and stop feeding me bad jingles!" the customer said angrily with his head out the car window.

"Hey, chill old man, I already told you the screen's busted!" a live voice replied through the speaker.

"_Excuse_ me! Who are you calling old? Can an old man run 5 miles in under 33 minutes?" the customer demanded.

"I could do it in under 30..." the order person mumbled.

"What happened to 'the customer is always right?'" he demanded, pulling his sunglasses down.

The staticky voice answered, "Whoever made that up never dealt with senile people before."

"Senile! I don't believe this…Just because you're a still a little girl, doesn't mean you should go unleashing puberty on everyone else."

"I'm a dude!" the employee yelled.

"Yeah, ok," the customer said sarcastically.

Cars behind honked. People started yelling and driving off.

"You know what? If that's what I'm gonna be like in 200 more years, I'm just gonna go hop in the oven now," the employee retorted.

The driver stuck his head practically in the chicken's mouth, as if the person on the other end could see him. "Don't bother! The food already tastes like crap!" he yelled.

"Then why are you here!"

"Well, I _was_ here for _fast food_, but I've been here for ten minutes now, and that's not so fast, is it?" the customer asked rhetorically.

"Maybe if you cut your order down to…oh, I don't know, 40 servings," the speaker voice said sarcastically, "You would be back at the nursery putting your teeth in and eating by now."

He slammed his steering wheel. "That's it, I'm getting you fired! Who would hire someone as USELESS as you? I want the manager!"

"Yeah, just like you wanted everything else on our menu. That's probably how the screen broke in the first place," the speaker mumbled.

"You're pretty brave talking like that. Let's see how brave you are when I roll up to your little window."

"What's your name, sir? I think I'm going to BAN you from here for a year. Or until you die, whichever comes first."

"That's it. You're gonna pay for that!" the driver roared.

"Actually _sir_, you're gonna pay. Will that be cash or credit card?" the worker asked pleasantly.

"Forget it. I ain't paying for cold food. It's bad for me anyway! Do you know what fake meat does to your arteries?" he grumbled, giving up.

Before he drove away, he yelled, "Tell your manager that SAMSON would bite a frog's head off before coming back here, you baby peon!"

The employer ran out the door to yell at the guy in person, but the car was already pretty far away. He threw his hat on the ground, revealing a shock of spiky blue hair.

"OH YEAH?" he yelled at the retreating hover car. "I'm not a baby! I'm turning 16 in two weeks!" he hollered. "That's like, the square root of you!" He took a deep breath. "And you owe me $46.29!" he yelled.

"ZAK! Get back in here, or get on over to the unemployment office!"

Muttering, the Cluck Bucket employee stuffed his hat back on and shuffled into the restaurant.

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**A/N:** Tell me how I did! This and the next chapter really are just setting you up with background, so I'll get into the competition later.

I really love this game and it's too bad it got outshined by Halo and Project Gotham Racing during the XBOX launch. But now I know a few people who play this game too. Love y'all reviewers! And lurkers! Keep playing.


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